Summer Style
by SpellboundWinter
Summary: Kyle. Stan. Dripping popsicles. Heat wave. College. Two of them. Alone. Do you know where this is going?


**Please don't take this seriously.**

**Style.**

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><p>Things never stay the same, no matter how much you want them to.<p>

Just when you think things couldn't get any worse… That things would always stay as they were… That nothing could possibly split you away from your bestest friend in the whole world.

Then it happens.

Then everything is all fucked up.

It was typical day in South Park, apart from the summer weather of course. It's that kind of summer day where the temperature is just right. The kind of day where the pollen is wafting on the breeze and it tickles your ears. The kind of day where sun's rays warmed your skin.

Warm, inviting, soothing; these were the words to describe a day like this.

Of course Kyle Broflovski was numb to the feeling of summer so far.

Maybe it was the summer blues, if there was such a thing. Even though Stan was sitting beside him on the front steps, he felt a million miles away.

Every time he tried to speak, his throat strained and his mouth became dry. And when a squeak did escape him, the words became lost. Maybe it's because the words were too hard to say.

Kyle never liked goodbyes anyway.

So he was stuck there, sullenly looking at the ground. He spotted a congregation of ants and gathered up some will, concentrating on them. If he thought hard about it, he might have been able to trade lives with at least one of them. Actually, why were there so many ants?

He could see little pools of red on the cement and he froze. Was he bleeding? It occurred to Kyle that he had a Popsicle still clutched in his hands. He peered up to see the sugary liquid rolling off his skin and feeding the ants on the ground.

The redhead felt like the little droplets of sugars and flavoring, not feeling exactly whole. Becoming lost in the little streams down his wrist and dripping down, just to be devoured.

Or maybe he liked metaphors. He wasn't sure.

It wasn't like he was depressed by any means. He didn't have time to be depressed. He wasn't like Stan who often got depressed about the little things like the news… His thoughts were currently preoccupied.

College would be starting soon.

He would have to say goodbye to his friends and his family, traveling halfway across the country just for a college he didn't even want to attend. His parents had control on the matter. Kyle just shrugged it off. Arguing with them was pointless as they were the ones paying for it.

Best to not bite the hand that feeds you.

Kyle thought for a moment, a few years wouldn't be such a bad thing. Things couldn't change _that_ much. But Stan… where would he be in four years? He would change. South Park would always be the same but not him.

A voice brought him out of his thoughts along with fingers snapping in front of his face, "Kyle? Hello? Earth to Kyle."

"Jesus Christ," Kyle jumped, his head craning to the noirette as he barked irritably. "What?"

"Your popsicle is melting." He said plainly, pointing to the red, white and blue pop. He leaned over and licked the small pool from Kyle's fingers.

Kyle jumped back in surprise. Of course, he knew it was dripping but he didn't care. He pretended though, eyes flickering to it with a faked surprised look. "Oh… Sorry," he placed the cool treat back in his mouth, mumbling as he slurpped. "I was just thinking..."

"About?" Stan's eyebrow lifted. "It's summer break dude. Keep all that thinking back in high school-"

Kyle interrupted him, sounding hurt. "I was thinking that we wouldn't always like this and it worried me."

It became quiet between the two. Kyle studied his friend closely, noticing his clothing preferences changed in the summer. His blue hat with the red pom-pom would be gone and his choppy locks would fall over his eyes. Kyle also would be able to see his pasty arms in his short sleeves and if he was lucky he would wear those baggy shorts too.

…Was a friend supposed to notices stuff like that?

"Things don't last forever. You should know that, Mr. Smarty Pants." Stan joked as his sucked and slurped the rest of his ice cream treat from the wooden stick. Kyle bit at his lip, observing Stan's talent as he lapped at the syrup.

The noirette studied the stick, searching for something. Then he brightened, and read the text aloud. "Hey Kyle, how many apples grow on a tree?"

"I dunno dude, how many?"

Stan squinted, flipping it all around. The jokes on the sticks weren't that hard to look for… at least that's what Kyle thought anyways. Was he stupid or something? Stan grinned, looking up to the redhead confidently, "All of them."

Kyle chuckled, shoving him roughly. So much suspense and no payback. "Wow, these things are lame. Why did we eat them as a kid anyways?" Kyle face twisted as licked a bit of juice from his wrist, "I'm going to miss this, you know?"

"All you do is think about college… It's still a week away. There's a ton more time." Stan said reassuringly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the noirette's thumb rubbing little circles into it. "Besides you could always visit on the holidays and I could call you all the time! Don't worry about it."

"Stop saying that there's a lot of time left, there isn't." Kyle spat, jumping to his feet. "Calling you isn't the same. I don't want to wait for the holidays… I want to see you all the time. You mean more to me than a best friend."

Stan sighed, "…I'm trying to make a good thing out of this."

"You're not helping!" Kyle tossed the Popsicle aside, watching it leave his hands and break apart on the ground in a mess of red, white and blue. "I'm going to leave soon. I'm going to be gone for at least four years. Don't you care?"

Stan's lips tugged into a tight frown, "What's wrong with you dude? Are you feeling alright?"

"I need to wash my hands." Kyle yanked open the door, stepping inside and hurrying into the kitchen. He was sure Stan was an idiot. He huffed, chewing at his lips angrily as he twisted the knobs, searing hot water spraying down onto his hands.

Everything goes right over his head. Kyle was ready to explode. How could he just brush it off? Was he blind…? Did he just not understand…?

Before he knew it, a pair of arms found themselves curling around the ginger. Kyle nearly hopped out of his skin. Stan? Holding him? "Dude, gay!"

"What's wrong?" He mumbled into his shoulder.

"I… I'm fine, Jesus dude." he spat, whipping his head away from the man. Maybe it was because he was turning redder and redder by the minute.

"Tell me, Ky."

"No-"

Kyle was cut off mid sentence as Stan whipped him around, forcing Kyle to look at him. "Tell me." He said more sternly. The ginger peered up timidly into Stan's eyes. Kyle found himself leaning forward, slowly, closing the space between the two. Lips nearly touching until…

Until…

…He put his dick in his butt

And everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.


End file.
